


Animus

by Nadler



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018-2019 NHL Season, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 04:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18113312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadler/pseuds/Nadler
Summary: Miro Heiskanen made the roster right out of training camp. No AHL time for him, not when he spent that extra year in the Liiga. He's just as cocky as they used to accuse Julius of being, and Julius should hate him.(He doesn't.)





	Animus

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so I finally wrote some Miro/Honks. I really wish I knew how to tag this better.

The moment Heiskanen stepped on the ice in Dallas, it was like there was a spotlight on him. There was one, and no one could say a bad word about him. Everyone praised his skating, which, Julius admitted, was better than Jamie's by miles.

Better than a lot of people's. Better than Julius's. 

They had played together at Worlds, as in, they were on the same team, but they were never on the same pair. Finland was not that large of a country; all the hockey players that were good enough to make the NHL knew each other, eventually. Heiskanen didn't look like much at Worlds. Young, mostly. While Julius tried to remember what it felt like to skate on European ice, they threw more and more minutes at Heiskanen, and he wasn't jealous or seething about it, just--

Heiskanen was eighteen and already given top minutes. 

They were in Dallas, now. This was supposed to be Julius's year: new coach, new system, and a chance to make it right. Heiskanen should be another teammate, though probably one that he'll not have to worry about being traded for a bag of pucks. 

When Julius passed by him during camp, Heiskanen smiled and waved. He wanted to chat Julius up with soft and eager words, and Miro's English was almost as bad as Esa's, back when he first came over, so no one blamed him for being the quiet guy. 

He _wasn't_ a quiet guy, but only a few people knew that. Miro would crack a bad joke that only Esa thought was funny, sometimes. Rarely, he'd say something that was actually funny. He talked shit. 

Other times, there was something else, that Julius couldn't pinpoint, and he just wanted to--something. Grab Miro and tell him that everything that he was hung on a thread, or tell him to shut up when he said he wasn't anything special. It was petty, but Julius didn't _say_ any of those things. 

Miro Heiskanen made the roster right out of training camp. No AHL time for him, not when he spent that extra year in the Liiga. He's just as cocky as they used to accuse Julius of being, and Julius should hate him. 

That made practices a little difficult, but he's a professional. He could get through it. 

Julius used to sulk and shoot on net during this time, but now he skated with the rest of them, and he put on a smile for the people who didn't expect him to smile at all. He'd keep his head down, and he'd play. He'd be a good sportsman. 

There shouldn't have been a problem, but Miro was the one who was playing every night, and Julius was the one who got a pat on the back during practice. Julius shouldn't care. He'd worn green longer. Julius was going to be a big player in the NHL, and he's most of the way there. He just needed to bide his time, learn a little more. _Be a team player._

 

It was absolutely picking a fight when Julius went up to him, during one of the rare moments Monty let them fuck around for warming up however they liked. 

For all of the responsibility Miro had, for all that everyone had nothing but nice things to say about him, for all that they call Miro unflappable and unstoppable--he's still just a rookie. One that stopped and listened when the vets in the room talked, and one who inexplicably looked at Julius like he understood. 

Julius was not a fucking mind reader. 

He wasn't even sure what possessed him to graze Miro, but once it was started, he couldn't stop, not really. On another day, on someone else, maybe, they'd have put it to Julius being in a bad mood. 

Not Miro, evidently. He gave Julius this _look_ , and said some nonsense Julius couldn't even parse. 

He absolutely hated him. It was the natural order of things. 

 

Esa's the one that Miro went to for advice. Julius was just the sucker they called to help Miro move into his apartment.

 

It wasn't like Julius didn't talk to him altogether. 

In the locker room, they had their defender wall, and it was easy to talk about shit. Anything, really, and the room didn't give them much crap for Finnish so long as Segs didn't think they were talking about him. That dropped off the longer that Segs went without a goal. 

It was also very hard to avoid him on the road. They put them together because Julius was still on his ELC, and Miro's a rookie, and clearly they're Finnish defensemen. 

"Hey, works out," the equipment guys said, when they handed Julius and Miro their room keys for this hotel. Julius didn't contest the assignment. It wasn't sportsmanlike to do that. 

 

That didn't mean he had to talk to Miro. He had headphones for a reason. It was bearable. 

Miro, though, couldn't let that stand. 

"Movie?" he asked, flicking through the pay per view channels. "There's got to be something good here." 

Julius scowled, but he took off his headphones and said, "I'm good without one." 

A few minutes passed, and Miro kept flipping through channels until he gave up and started scrolling on his phone. After that, he tossed his phone on the bed and went, "I'm bored." 

"Sounds like a personal problem," and Julius didn't even bother stifling, "Get Esa or Roope to pay attention to you. Or join the old men's card game. I'm sure they'll love your money."

He didn't mean to sound snappish, but he didn't regret it either.

"You're not really angry at me," Miro said, suddenly. He had that smirk on his face, the one that said he's cracked the secret to the universe. 

"I'm pretty damn sure I am." Julius pursed his lip. He knew he sounded surly. "You're a little whiny." 

"Julle," and Miro drew the nickname out slowly, like he was tasting it out. "You really aren't." 

For a small moment, Julius was back on the ice in Helsinki. But this wasn't Finland; this was Dallas, and Julius was Honks, and Heiskanen was _Miro_ , and Julius couldn't put his tongue on the difference, but there was one. 

"Is that supposed to work?" Julius gritted his teeth. "Is that how you get everyone to just--to care about you like that." 

Because that's what he did, that's what Julius had seen him do, and no one could ever say a bad word about him. It's infuriating. All he had to do was play guileless, try to be a humble hockey boy and fail, and they all cared about him. 

Julius understood what they wanted from him, and he tried his hardest to be that: no problems, no attitude. It still wasn't enough. 

He put on his headphones and closed his eyes when Miro didn't answer. Maybe that would stop Miro from being earnest at him.

 

Miro grated on Julius's nerves even more after that. Sure, they had meals together, and like, it was nice to have someone other than Esa to talk to in Finnish, but also, Miro had this way of turning his head so that all his hair flopped, and it looked _bad_ , okay. 

Julius tossed him tape when he asked for it. 

It was a long season. 

Klinger got hurt; _everyone_ had gotten hurt. Julius got scratched, again. Monty told him it's not a big problem, but Julius knew that he was running out of chances, and the worst thing was, he didn't know how to do any better. 

Going out with the team really sucked when he didn't want to think about a game he watched from the pressbox. Julius wondered if he should buy a new suit, to mix things up. Maybe the media would appreciate it. 

"I don't know why you keep fighting me on this," Miro said, leaning into Julius. The room spun a little, and Miro definitely stole Julius's last drink. 

"On what?" he snapped. 

Miro used him for support, and that didn't answer anything. "Just, Julle--" and he sighed, and Julius couldn't read minds, but there Miro was again, calling him _Julle_ like they were _friends_ , and that thought distracted Julius, and while he was aware that Miro opened his mouth to say more, he didn't hear any of it. 

Esa came to extract Miro, or well, to nod at them and hand them new cups of water and say, "Looks like you're getting along now. That's good." 

Julius didn't have it in him to say otherwise, and Miro looked up, disentangled himself from where he was and replied, "I think so." 

Julius's side was strangely cold, when Miro got up. 

 

When they got off the bus in Vegas, Esa, of all people, said, "Okay. Stop it." 

"What?" Julius frowned, hands digging deeper into his pockets. All he wanted to do was to get to his hotel room and be left _alone_. Sure, Miro would be there, but then he'd go leave and go do stuff with Roope and Esa with whatever Esa thought he had to do with rookies. 

Esa herded Julius like he was a particularly skittish cat, with a grim face. "Do you need me to referee? What's going on?" 

Miro opened the door, and he looked just as confused as Julius did. "Hey," he said, looking between them. "Is there--" 

"You two," he said. "Need to hash it out. There's too much bad blood to move. So do it or I'll make you do it. " 

"Did Esa just fucking threaten to put us in time out?" Julius wondered, and while he could open the door and leave, it was a little shocking. Bewildered, he realized, "He just did." 

"I can hear you!" Esa was a little muffled through the door, but Julius knew he was probably flipping him off right now. There were footsteps, and Julius couldn't tell if he was pacing at the door or just walking away to leave them to it. 

Miro nodded. He shrugged. "I mean, yeah." 

"What the hell?" Roope and Miro just took it? Damn rookies, Julius thought. It was just Esa. Julius had seen Esa fail to open his apartment door _multiple times_ in the A. He used to be the worst at getting anything done that involved people. "What's this supposed to do?" 

"You could, you know, stop pretending you hate me," Miro suggested. He tried to smile, and it wasn't really a smile, Julius thought, or else he just sucked at smiling. "Be nicer." 

"This is me being nice." Julius frowned, and then he went over and sat in the chair because he's not sure Esa wasn't camped by the door for all of this. He wanted to ask who Miro's roommate was, but then Julius decided it didn't matter. "Did you want a selfie or something to prove it?" 

If this was brought on by Julius not wanting to be in some pictures, this was going to be a long season. There was an awkward moment of silence, and they breathed, for a moment.

"I think everyone's in Rads's room," Miro offered, sitting at the edge of his bed. "You wanna go play some games?" 

"I guess," and Julius tried not to shove his hands in his pockets, but he followed Miro out anyway. 

Esa gave them a look when they walked in, and he tilted his head. 

Julius took a controller from Smitty, who grumbled and said, "Fine, yeah, I'm out," and ignored Esa giving them a look.

 

There are the other days; the team's out again, and sometimes Julius thinks his life is only hockey, practice, the interchangeable hotel rooms they stay at, and the interchangeable bars they manage to find themselves in. 

Miro scored a goal; people have been buying him drinks. Roope's taken a decent amount of shots for him, while Faks keeps trying to show off some bar room tricks he's not particularly good at. 

Julius took the beer that Jamie offered him, and he tried to find anything to talk about; they all knew about their stupid season. Commiserating was easy. 

Somehow, he got herded into a booth, the Russians on one side of him, and Miro on the other, increasingly in need of water and something to balance himself on. The bar doesn't close for a while, but the next thing Julius knew, there were considerably less Stars in his sight. 

"Time to head back," Esa pronounced because giving him a pair of rookies made him the worst killjoy in the world. But also, Julius checked his phone. It was kind of late, and they did have things to do tomorrow. 

"This isn't my job," Julius said, as Esa basically shoved Miro at him. 

"I only have one set of hands, and you're his roommate. You can take the other one, if you want," Esa said, pretty convincingly. Roope looked like he was about to puke, possibly onto someone's shoes. 

Julius thought about it for two seconds. "I'll take Miro." 

"I thought so." Esa's sigh was heavy enough to weigh down mountains. 

 

Miro rested his head on the table until their ride got there. It was fine, no different than any other time he's helped or been helped by a teammate back to the hotel. 

Except Miro whined, "Why don't you like me?" when Julius was precariously making sure Miro could lean against the wall while Julius swiped his keycard. 

Julius didn't answer. He didn't, really, and the way Miro sounded a little wavering, like it was hard to even ask--that was something he didn't want to think about or answer. 

"In we go," he said instead. Miro followed him, but he need to drape himself over Julius's shoulder to keep from tripping on his own two feet. "Better for you to pass out on a bed." 

"But you don't like me." 

"Not everyone has to like you," and Julius couldn't stop himself from the retort. He managed to drop Miro onto the closest bed, and the height difference between them made it a little awkward, especially when Miro was still holding on. Miro pulled him down, and he was heavy.

Then, Miro was clingy. 

Julius took deep breaths. "Let me up. I'll get you water," and that was not a particularly good bribe as Miro didn't move. 

"You don't hate me." 

"No," Julius said, softly. "I don't." 

Miro kissed him. It wasn't a very good kiss, sloppy and drunkenly coordinated. He didn't push him off. Julius froze, and Miro clutched at his shirt as he pulled back. 

"I knew it." He sounded a little weird, smug and something else that Julius couldn't place. 

"What the hell was that?" and Julius didn't even know if he was supposed to be angry about it; he wasn't. He didn't have the energy to yell or--

Miro didn't answer him. He was hard to move before, but he definitely wasn't in a state to hear him now. 

Julius should hate Miro. His mouth tasted like alcohol. Julius ran his tongue over his bottom lip and let out a huff of breath. 

Miro was heavy and definitely unconscious, but when Julius shifted, Miro made a disagreeable sound and gripped futilely at fabric. Julius could leave now and leave Miro's soft snoring alone. 

He didn't.


End file.
